


Talons

by evilwriter37



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Monstrous Nightmare - Freeform, Viggo's grandfather, Whump, Wounded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 09:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: The story behind the scars on Viggo's neck.





	Talons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skywolf42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skywolf42/gifts).



The morning was cool and crisp and mist hung in the valley below. Viggo stayed low to the ground, trying not to rattle the sword positioned on his back. It was a real sword, not one of the wooden ones that he and Ryker used to practice. Viggo was twelve now, and he and Ryker had urged their grandfather, Gormr Grimborn, the chief of the Dragon Hunters, to allow him to go out on his first hunt. After much convincing, Viggo had been allowed to join them. Anticipation made him feel full of energy despite it being the crack of dawn. He was eager to see and hopefully partake in what it was his tribe did for a living, what they were named for.

Viggo was with Ryker and a party of five Hunters. Ryker was seventeen now, old enough to lead his own hunting party. Their grandfather had taken one off in another direction.

Viggo peered through the mist, searching for any telltale signs of dragons: a flutter of movement, a tail sliding behind a tree, footprints, anything. He’d of course been taught how to hunt dragons, but actually doing it was very different from being sat down and instructed on what to do when one wasn’t actually around.

“I don’t see anything,” Viggo said quietly to Ryker, who was on his right.

“Not yet, anyway,” Ryker said. “This valley’s crawling with dragons. We have traps placed down there, and one will wander into it eventually.”

Viggo knew that the traps were part of the hunting, but they seemed like a boring way to do it to him. He wanted to actually go out there and fight one. The traps were too easy. He wanted to see if he could out-think a dragon. He’d learned that some of them were clever animals, and he wanted to come face-to-face with one.

“Oh, I see something!” Viggo hissed, pointing out into the mist. About thirty feet from them, there was a shadow, movement. He began to rise, but Ryker put a hand on his back and pulled him back down.

“Not yet, Viggo. You have to analyze the situation first. Keep watching. What kind of dragon do you think it is?”

Viggo squinted. He could make out a crown of spikes through the trees.

“Deadly Nadder,” he answered.

Ryker chuckled. “Good. Very good. Maybe you’ll get the hang of this faster than I thought. Now we wait and see if it gets into any of the traps, and if not, we’ll go and take care of it.” He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword to show what he meant, and Viggo gave him an excited smile.

They waited there for another minute or so in the dewy grass in silence, and Viggo followed the Nadder with his eyes. The mist was clearing, and the dragon was coming into better view. What the dragon didn’t see that Viggo could, was that there was a rope coiled near its right foot, a trap. Viggo curled his fists in anticipation, waiting, eager to see if it worked.

The dragon made the right step to land in the trap, and then with a squawk and a flutter of wings, it was caught in a net, hanging from the large bough of a tree. 

“Woohoo!” Viggo called out, jumping up to his feet. Ryker made no sound, but there was a satisfied smirk on his face as he stood with the rest of the men.

“First catch of the day,” Ryker said proudly as he lumbered down the hill, Viggo trying to keep up with his long strides. His brother was large, larger than some of the men. Viggo wondered if he’d ever grow that big, or at least that tall. He was small at the moment, impatient for his impending growth spurt. He didn’t like how he had to look up at everyone around him.

“Now what?” Viggo asked as they neared the dragon. It was just struggling in the net. Viggo knew that they didn’t kill the dragon yet. Sometimes they even let their customers do that. Depending on the goods, a live dragon could sell better than a dead one.

“Dragon Root,” Ryker answered, pulling an arrow tipped in green from his quiver. “It’ll knock the beast out for transportation.” Ryker approached the dragon, and Viggo stayed where he was a few feet back, just watching.

The call of another dragon distracted him. He swiveled his head to the right, where the sound had come from. The mist was beginning to clear, but there were still some lingering pockets of it meandering through the trees. Viggo peered out into the forest, hand going to his sword.

The call came again, and Viggo’s attention was now completely on it. He stepped towards it. Then he took another step, and another, was walking away from Ryker and the hunting party and the Nadder. Once he was farther into the trees, he drew his sword, quickly found that he had to hold it with two hands. It was heavy, much heavier than the wooden ones used for practice.

Viggo got into his best fighting stance, trying to ready himself for this dragon. He was still determined to fight one, to catch and maybe even kill one on his own. This was his chance.

Farther into the forest, he found the dragon. There was a Monstrous Nightmare feasting on what looked to be a freshly killed boar, splattering the ground with blood and tainting the fresh morning air with the smells of iron and gore. It had its back turned to Viggo, completely engrossed in its meal, so Viggo had an advantage. Clutching his sword tightly, he moved behind a tree to assess the situation.

The dragon was a little bit bigger than the average Monstrous Nightmare he’d seen, colored in red, black, and dark purple. He couldn’t tell the sex from here but that was fine. He didn’t need to know that to kill it.

Viggo would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared though. He’d never faced a dragon before, and especially not on his own, or one this big. He took a second to think that he might be way in over his head, but he quickly pushed that aside. He imagined how proud Gormr would be of him if he managed to fell this creature on his first hunt. Maybe it would show him that he’d make a better chief than Ryker, because he certainly would. All Ryker knew was hunting dragons. He knew dragons better than he knew people. Viggo figured he knew both. He was smarter than the average person, even at his age, and most definitely smarter than Ryker. He knew he’d make a better chief, but now he just had to prove it.

Viggo stepped carefully out from behind the tree, approached carefully. Or, he thought he did. 

_ Crunch. _

Viggo looked underfoot with bated breath. He’d stepped on one of the first leaves of autumn. He’d neglected to pay attention to the time of year.

_ Uh oh. _

Viggo wasn’t given long before the dragon turned on him. Its snout was covered in blood, and it showed teeth covered in more red as it gave him a ferocious snarl. Terror made Viggo’s limbs go weak, and he held up the sword at the last moment as the dragon lashed out at him with silver talons that glimmered in the sunlight. That was the last thing he saw before he was struck with pain: talons and terrifying yellow eyes.

His sword was struck aside in an instant, and Viggo screamed as the flesh of the left side of his neck was shredded by those huge talons. Blood flew into the air, his sword going to land in the bushes a few feet away. Viggo staggered backwards, a hand going to his neck, feeling nothing but hot liquid there. Blood. His own blood. Good gods, he was  _ dying. _

He collapsed onto his back in the grass, and the dragon was still looking at him.

“Help.” He tried to yell it, but the word hardly came out. He kept at it anyway, whispering it desperately. “Help, help, help! Help me!” He kicked himself back away from the dragon. Panic gushed hot through his body, his mind. He didn’t know what to do, how to get away. Agony throbbed away at his senses with a relentless blade and he just wanted it to  _ stop _ . What was he supposed to do?!

Viggo was too weak to continue on. He went limp in the grass, staring up at the dragon. He was terrified and he didn’t want to die, but it seemed like there was nothing to do but accept his fate. He was going to be killed and maybe even eaten by a Monstrous Nightmare.

Viggo closed his eyes. The last thing he would see would be those hungry yellow eyes.

The dragon suddenly roared, and Viggo’s eyes shot open. They went wide when he saw a spear jutting out of the dragon’s side. Viggo had lost so much blood; he was confused. Then shouts rose up all around him, and a hunting party emerged, led by his grandfather, brandishing his own spear.

“Shoot it with Dragon Root!” Gormr shouted. “Make sure it doesn’t get away!”

A volley of arrows flew at the dragon next, and at such close range, it couldn’t avoid any of them. It was pierced by many, and it roared again in pain and anger. Gormr threw his spear with a grunt, and it embedded itself in the dragon’s throat. It went down with a crash, snout landing not even a foot from Viggo.

_ I’ll live! _

Though, Viggo was terrified that he wouldn’t. He was gasping for breath, and the wound in his neck hurt to Helheim and back. He’d never felt so much pain before. His hand was so slick with blood.

“You stupid child,” Gormr growled at him as he knelt down by him and took his upper body into his lap.

“I-I’m sorry, grandpa,” Viggo rasped out. “Sorry. Just wanted to prove myself.”

“By being an idiot? Not the way to do it, now is it?”

His grandfather was definitely angry with him. Here Viggo was dying and he’d angered his grandfather and chief. Fantastic.

“Get a fire going! Quickly!” Gormr shouted at the men. 

“Am I… Am I dying?” Viggo asked weakly. It was so hard to talk. His neck was burning.

“No, Viggo. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Mm…” That was good at least. Feeling relieved, Viggo closed his eyes, rested his head back.

There was a light slap on his face. “Hey, no. Stay awake.” Gormr’s voice was firm, an order. Viggo forced his eyes open despite how weak he was feeling. He wanted to cry at the pain but didn’t have the energy to. His eyes were watering.

“Tired,” Viggo told him.

“I know, I know.” It seemed all anger was gone from him. “You’ve just gotta stay awake a little longer.” 

Viggo groaned in pain as Gormr pressed his hand to the one that was over the wound. “And keep your hand there. Can’t have you losing too much of that royal blood.”

“Sorry,” Viggo said again. His tongue felt thick and his eyes heavy. He just wanted to go to sleep. 

“How’s that fire coming along?” Gormr asked, ignoring Viggo’s repeated apology.

“Just starting, sir!”

“Heat a knife! Now!” There was a frantic tone in his voice, and Viggo should have known why he was frantic, but he didn’t. He was just so tired. What was that pain in his neck? What was he doing here?

“What’s that for?” Viggo asked quietly. 

“It’ll help,” Gormr answered. Viggo’s hand had slipped away from the wound, and a firm touch replaced it, adding to the burning. Viggo didn’t even have the energy to squirm in his grandfather’s arms at that. He closed his eyes again, but was rewarded with a sharp slap. “Awake! Stay awake, boy!”

“Sorry.”

“No apologies now, got it? Save them for later.”

Viggo tried to nod, but it hurt too much. “Later,” he agreed.

“Got the knife, sir!” One of the Hunters ran over, and Viggo looked to see him holding a knife that was glowing a fierce orange. Gormr took it.

“Viggo, this is going to hurt.”

“But it already-” Viggo didn’t get to finish speaking. His grandfather removed his hand from the wound, and suddenly the knife was pressed to it, burning away at shredded flesh. Viggo jolted and screamed, clawed at the grass with the hand that was closest to it. He’d thought he’d been in pain before, but this was even  _ worse _ .

“Dammit. I can’t see the slashes well enough,” Gormr said in frustration. “One of you come here and wipe up all this blood.”

“Hurts,” Viggo told him. He didn’t know how he was supposed to stay awake now. He could feel his consciousness slipping away.

“I know, Viggo. I know.” One of the men knelt by him, began mopping up the blood with a torn piece of his tunic. All Viggo felt was fire on his neck. “Just hang in there.”

“Ungh.” Viggo wanted so badly to succumb to the darkness closing in around him. He let his eyes slide shut, and nothing could wake him.

  
  


It felt like hot coals were being pressed to the left side of his neck. Viggo groaned, shifted in his bed. He was in his bed, wasn’t he? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered had been the hunt, capturing the Deadly Nadder, going off after something else...

The Monstrous Nightmare. The eyes, the claws, the pain and blood. Oh gods, the pain. That’s what that was in his neck. It had gotten him, and somehow, he was still alive.

“You awake, little brother?”

“Sort of,” Viggo responded. He rolled into his back, opened his eyes to see Ryker sitting in a chair beside the bed. “I’m alive?”

“No thanks to yourself.” Anger. Of course. Shame coiled in Viggo’s stomach, heated his cheeks. “That was right foolish of you going after a dragon on your own.”

“I thought I had it.”

“Well, you didn’t.” Ryker stood, paced a few feet. “I mean, how could you have?! Look at you! Look how small you are! It was stupid of you, Viggo! You almost died!”

Viggo said nothing at his brother’s words. He was right of course. He’d nearly died. And for what? To be the source of his family’s anger. He was mad at himself too though. It  _ had  _ been stupid to go after that dragon on his own. If he hadn’t felt the need to prove himself, to show himself to be better than Ryker, none of this would have happened. He deeply regretted his actions. He should have just stayed with the hunting party.

“Thor, I should have been watching you.” Ryker pulled fingers through his hair. “I should have expected you to do that. You always try to one-up me, and now look where it got you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ryker sighed, looked at him. His eyes were sad. “I know you are. I know.” Then, without another word, he left the room.

Viggo had nothing to do but wait for his grandfather to arrive. Surely he would. Viggo was beyond grateful to him that he had saved his life, but of course he felt terrible that he had needed to. It mustn’t have been a good day for Gormr, holding his dying grandson in his arms. Guilt gnawed away at Viggo’s being. He knew this was all his fault and that there was no one to blame but himself. That was hard. Usually there was someone else to blame, someone to take the fall for him, but now it was just him.

Viggo felt at the bandages on his neck. He wondered what the wound looked like, but he wouldn’t peek at it. He’d never seen such a thing before, and he knew it would only make him ill, especially since it was his own. By the gods, it still really hurt. He’d have to find something to do to distract himself while it healed. Maybe reading could fill his time. He did have a rather long list of books he wanted to finish. The Grimborns had quite the collection of volumes, and Viggo had loved it from a young age, even challenging himself to read the more difficult ones. He’d learned quickly that way. 

Eventually, the door opened, and Viggo looked up as his grandfather entered the room.

“Sit up, boy,” he said sternly. He was holding a wooden box in two hands. “I won’t have you lying down while I’m talking to you.”

Viggo hurried to do as he said, propping a pillow behind him. Pain flashed through his neck at any movement of his head. He wondered if he’d been given anything for it, or if Gormr was letting him feel the full effects of the injury as punishment.

“What’s that?” Viggo asked as Gormr set the box down on the bed beside him. A gift hardly seemed in order.

“A game,” Gormr answered. “We can play it once I’ve spoken with you.”

Viggo’s hopes fell. He waited for harsh words.

Gormr sat in the chair. His gray hair was pulled back into a bun, and his beard was neatly groomed. If Viggo had to guess, he’d say it was a day or so after the hunt.

“Ryker already told me it was stupid,” Viggo said glumly, picking at his blankets. “And I get it. It was.”

“Indeed it was. I thought I lost you for a moment there.”

“Sorry. I’m really,  _ really  _ sorry.”

“Oh, I know you are.” Gormr gestured to his neck. “No one suffers like that and isn’t sorry. You’ll have scars for the rest of your life.”

“So it’s really bad then?”

Gormr nodded. “I pray you don’t look at it.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

“Am I being punished?” Viggo asked.

Gormr shook his head. “That dragon punished you enough. It would be cruel to not give a child medicine when they needed it.”

So he had been given something for pain. Viggo was left trying to imagine what it would have felt like without it. He found that he couldn’t. At least he wasn’t in the agony he’d been in at the time of receiving the wound. That had been awful, and he hoped he never had to experience anything close to it again. 

“So, you clearly understand the folly of your ways, am I correct, Viggo?” Gormr asked, his brown eyes serious. “You’re smart enough to learn.”

“Yes,” Viggo answered meekly. He was surprised his grandfather wasn’t yelling at him.

“Good.” He lifted the top off of he box to reveal the game board and the stone pieces inside. “Now, this is called Maces and Talons.”

Viggo had it in him to smile. “How do you play?”


End file.
